Paparazzi Perfect (Perfect #1)

1. THE CANOE

THE CANOE

JFK AIRPORT, NEW YORK, USA

KARSON

Free. At last.

After countless nights studying, and bottomless cups of coffee blurring into early mornings, I’d finally graduated from Drake Academy, along with my best friend, Dyson. High school was done.

Finished. Forever.

We’d entered Drake as kids. Now, both six foot two, we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, ready to begin our journey to Harrison Island in North Queensland, Australia.

A few glorious months of freedom, island hopping, sunshine, and no rules awaited.

After that, it would be time for the real world—as my father Karlos liked to remind me.

I’d join the family business in Sydney while studying commerce.

Not my first choice for how to live a good life… but some plans weren’t easy to escape.

Since I’d left Australia for boarding school when I was seven years old, I’d only been back for vacations. This time, I was going home for good.

I should have felt relieved.

Instead, something sat heavy in my chest… because I knew my freedom came with an expiration date.

***

The flight dragged as we watched movies, ordered every dessert on the menu, and took turns staring out of the window at endless stretches of ocean, desert, and wilderness below.

Eventually—while Dyson charmed the woman in the seat next to him—I reclined my seat, closed my eyes, and let my mind drift back a few years to the last time I’d believed my parents would be there for me…

Dyson slumped into his chair in the packed assembly hall. “Seriously,” he mumbled, pushing a lock of jet-black hair off his face, “how much more of this torture must we take?”

“We might have to stage a breakout.” I chuckled beside him. “I’m just glad it’s vacation time. Now I can finally head back to Australia. It’s been almost a year since I’ve been home.”

I’d been counting the days.

A tall, red-haired girl glanced over her shoulder from the row in front of us. Her gaze caught mine, a nervous smile flickering across her face before she quickly turned forward again.

The fair-haired girl beside her snuck a glance at Dyson, then looked back toward the stage, both of them dissolving into quiet giggles.

“I saw that smile you gave her. Careful, buddy,” Dyson said, eyeing me. “Keep that up and there’ll be a lineup.”

“Please.” I smirked. “It’s you they’ve got their eye on, mate.”

“You’re delusional,” he scoffed as the fair-haired girl snuck another look at him.

“Keep telling yourself that.” I chuckled.

The principal took hold of the microphone. Everyone winced as an ear-piercing squeal echoed around the hall before silence swept across the room.

“Young men and women of Drake Academy,” she began with her chest puffed forward, “congratulations on an outstanding year of academic excellence.” Her gaze brushed over the crowd like a radar scan checking for any sign of rebellion.

“Each of you embodied the school philosophy: Oriri et Vincere. Rise and Conquer.”

Dyson rolled his eyes.

“You are the thought leaders, the next generation of global innovators,” she continued, but my attention drifted out through the tall windows lining the hall as her voice faded into the background.

I stopped listening.

Two more years. That’s all.

Then I’ll be free.

My gaze drifted across the sky, tracking a slow-moving cloud, soft and weightless.

“And remember, even on vacation, you are Drake ambassadors. Your behavior must reflect that,” the principal declared, surveying the room with military precision.

Dyson groaned quietly beside me.

“Be prepared for another year of success upon your return. You may now rise quietly. Enjoy your vacation.” With a crisp nod, she stepped away.

The room erupted into chatter as students excitedly shared their vacation plans, a buzz of energy crackling through the vast hall.

Dyson and I stepped outside, fist-bumping as we made our way back toward the dorm.

I flopped down onto my bed, waiting for my driver to arrive. Dyson was leaving the following afternoon, after his parents returned to the family estate in Ascot from their business trip.

My gaze landed on my packed suitcases before shifting to Dyson’s clothes sprawled from one side of the room to the other. “You’d better tidy up your junk.”

I grabbed one of his crumpled shirts, took aim, and fired it to where he lay sprawled across the bed. “If the supervisor sees this mess, you’ll be getting detention on your first day back. Again.”

“It’s a work in progress,” he said, tossing a rolled-up shirt into his half-empty case before launching another one straight at my head.

With a smirk, I stretched out on my bed, watching him pack. I checked the time again. The Cartier watch was a birthday gift from my father—the latest model, but otherwise the same gift he gave me every year.

A sharp knock sounded at the door, I jumped up as Dyson scrambled to his feet, shoving the last of the clothes into his suitcase. The door swung open, and we both straightened as the boarding house supervisor strode in. “Karson, may I speak with you?” he asked, as if it were a request.

“Yes, sir.” I stepped forward, pulling my shoulders back.

“Your father has informed me there has been a change to your vacation arrangements.”

My heart sank to my stomach as he clasped his hands behind his back and pointed his sharp chin at me.

“He has unexpected business to attend to, so you won’t be joining them for your vacation.” His voice scraped like sandpaper over an old tabletop.

My eyes dropped to the floor.

“Instead, you will join Dyson and his family. Your flight from JFK to Heathrow has been finalized. Questions?” His watery eyes showed nothing.

“No, sir.” The words tasted bitter as they caught in my throat.

I’d vacationed with the Khans countless times before, but my heart had already left for home… I could almost picture myself there, laughing with Gus—my father’s chauffeur—who’d always felt more like a father to me than my own.

“Let me remind you that you are a Drake Academy student. Lift your chin, boy.”

I drew in a slow breath, forcing my head up.

“Dinner is at six sharp.” He turned toward the door. “Do not be late and be prepared for your departure tomorrow.” A moment later, the door clicked shut behind him.

Sighing, I lay face down on the bed. Deep down, I’d known they’d cancel. Why would they change their plans for me?

“Now I won’t get to see Gus,” I said quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat. I stared out the window at the stream of cars leaving through the school gates. “And I’ll miss the kickboxing tournament in Sydney… I really thought I could win this year.”

“Gus’ll still be there next time, and we’ll find you a tournament in London. Besides, now you get to spend the vacation with me. Honestly, what could be better than that, right?” He flashed a grin.

I let out a quiet laugh.

“I hear Dad’s added a Lotus to the collection too. We can take it for a little joyride. And we can even go riding again. Who knows? You might even stay on this time.”

I smirked, remembering the disaster that unfolded the last time I’d visited his estate. I’d fallen off the horse before we’d even made it out of the stables.

My phone buzzed. I reached for it, expecting to see my father’s name.

GUS: G’day mate. I heard the news. Don’t you worry, I’ll still be here next time, we’ll be causing all sorts of trouble together.

I stared at the screen for a moment longer, then set the phone aside. A hollow ache opened inside of me. I had everything… except the one thing that mattered most.

***

At some point I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, Dyson was shaking me awake to freshly brewed coffee and a full meal awaiting.

The wheels screeched against the Sydney runway as the topaz water sparkled through the window. Once we’d landed, we boarded the small plane waiting on the tarmac for our flight to Harrison Island.

The tiny plane bumped and bounced through the air. I said a silent prayer as we jolted along the runway before finally grinding to a stop. We couldn’t unclip our seat belts fast enough, then squeezed down the narrow aisle and stepped outside.

Scorching tropical air greeted us like a sharp slap.

A spicy tang—ripe fruit and wet rainforest—hung in the air. I drank it in, and just like that, the post-exam stress lifted. Shielding the sun with our arms, we made our way to the small terminal.

After a few minutes, our luggage rolled out on something that resembled a glorified ride-on mower. As we wandered outside it was like we’d stepped into casual Friday in the tropics... like nothing really mattered.

Or maybe everything was just far enough away to ignore.

I spotted my name scrawled out in faded ink on a ripped piece of cardboard sitting upside down in the window of a muddy white Mercedes.

The driver, middle-aged, sun-beaten, and wearing a wide grin, leaned out of the window. “G’day, boys, I’m Mitch,” he called out. “If one of ya’s Karson, then I’m the man you’re lookin’ for.”

“That’s me,” I said, lifting a hand. “We’ll just throw our bags in.”

Dyson dumped his bag into the trunk, and I followed. We jumped in, as soon as Mitch closed his window and cranked the air con, we both exhaled.

“Welcome to Harrison Island, boys, or Harro as us locals call it,” Mitch said.

“Thanks mate, happy to be here,” Dyson replied.

“No worries. Harro’s very special. You’ll love it here.” He caught my eye in the rearview mirror before turning his attention back to the road. “I was born ’n’ bred here, damn proud of it too. Wouldn’t have it any other way. Everyone comes back. It’ll work its charm on you in no time.”

“Is that a promise or a warning, Mitch?” Dyson grinned, shooting me a skeptical look.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Mitch was right. I already felt lighter. Freer somehow. This place might get under your skin in ways you didn’t see coming.

Mitch drove on island time, and—despite our protests—insisted on taking the scenic route, pointing out ALL the sights as we crawled along.